


In Retrospect

by bhgeorge19



Category: Persona 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bhgeorge19/pseuds/bhgeorge19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble commission. Yosuke has an uncomfortably pleasant dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Retrospect

_‘I’ll take this guy home. If anybody asks, I’ll say I found him somewhere like this...’_

 

Maybe that hadn’t been the best idea. It wasn’t that he felt particularly _in danger_ around Kanji (Yosuke had reasoned that, once you’ve fought shadows, you get pickier about your fears) but there was something far more terrifying than the face on the boy next to him, or the possibility of him reverting to the rampaging punk they were running from just days ago.

 

What really scared him was that they might get _talking_. The walk had gone on in wonderful (and awkward) silence. Kanji would topple every now and then, but when Yosuke would reach to help him, he’d already picked himself up again.

 

In afterthought, that was a relief too: Yosuke didn’t feel particularly eager touching Kanji. He imagined he could get punched for that. There was also the fact that, for once, other people weren’t staring at him for being in the shopping district-- all their eyes were on Kanji.

 

Upon arriving to Tatsumi textiles, both boys came to a tacit, gentlemanly agreement.

 

“Uh, thanks for… walkin’ me home or whatever. And for, uh, what you did back there.”

 

“Sure, no problem.”

 

Just a terse couple of lines, and then no questions asked. No chance to linger on it, no time to think about it. Kanji disappeared behind the door and Yosuke heard him calling to his mother, which he took as his cue to get home soon.

 

As soon as he arrived he went straight for a shower, hoping the sticky feeling from the sauna would go away. Then he beelined for his room, avoiding the Hanamura parents and refusing their multiple offers for food. He really couldn’t understand how Souji could eat the nights after these rescue missions: Yosuke felt confident he didn’t have the strength to chew. Once he was in his pajamas, he flopped, face first on the bed, and was oh-so-thankful that slumber came to him quick enough to free him from the troublesome possibility of some _thought_.

 

He really didn’t want to think about it.

 

He really didn’t.

 

But Yosuke’s subconscious didn’t give him much of an option. The familiar heat of the sauna made him feel _unpleasantly comfortable_ \-- oh, it was almost lulling… the steam on his face, the hard wood behind his back, offering him a place to rest, the water coming up to his collarbone, brushing him in soft waves, the golden light shining through his eyelids, and all if that without the oppressive feeling of the _Fog_.

 

Two hands were on his shoulders. He didn’t mind. They were kind of big and had long-ish fingers, but they were massaging him, and Yosuke didn’t have any complaints about the idea.

 

“This feels good, stud?” came the voice behind him.

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

“Should I go a little _harder_?”

 

“Sure...” Yosuke replied in a daze.

 

“Okay...” sung the figure behind him.

 

Now, Yosuke’s subconscious was _slowly_ putting itself together, and up until that point his dream self had yet fully developed the deep-rooted sense of alarm that pumped through Yosuke’s veins during his waking hours. He didn’t even react right away when he slowly opened his eyes, lazily letting his head dip back to take a peek at his strong-handed benefactor, a yellow-eyed Kanji Tatsumi who was smiling cheerfully at him.

 

Yosuke even started to smile.

 

Of course, something about this wasn’t right, but Yosuke was hard pressed to remember what it was. The thread of anxiety that he wanted to hang onto was slippery, and try as he did to pick up on it, all he could manage was a lazy: “Uh… should we be doing this?”

 

“You feel good right now, senpai?”

 

“Y-Yeah, but...”

 

“Then what’s so wrong about it?”

 

The thread slipped.

 

Yosuke let himself relax under the touch. “I, I don’t know,” he said, drowsily. “ _Something_ ’s gotta be wrong.”

 

The shadow clicked his tongue. “Ohh, is _that_ how you treat the good things in life? You’re never going to get _anywhere,_ ” he paused to add, in a lower, sultry tone, “with _anyone,_ if you act like that.”

 

“Well how else am I supposed to--Oh, oh, oh man, oh man-- that’s the spot, keep squeezing there, keep--” Yosuke’s voice trailed to a moan, and white-hot pleasure washed over his mind, forcing him to close his eyes.

 

When he opened them again, he was still in the water, but he wasn’t sitting with his back against dry wood...

 

He was sitting against a chest.

 

“Dude, you’ve got… _no_ right having a chest that big and being one year younger than me.”

 

Sure, Yosuke’s panic hadn’t yet seeped into his sleep, but he and his _ressentiment_ were inseparable.

 

“Aw… well I think your chest is _mighty fine_ , senpai,” said the shadow, wrapping both arms around Yosuke.

 

Panic fought with a different, new, and wholly opposite sensation: while he struggled to be alarmed, even managing a bit of barefoot kicking underwater, Yosuke _felt... safe_. Safe as he’d felt, deep down, walking with a taller guy on the way through the shopping district.

 

“You know…?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I kind of envy you,” Yosuke admitted, letting his head set back on the shoulders behind him. “I mean, you… you get to walk around the shopping district and when people look at you, it’s like you don’t give a crap anymore.”

 

The shadow said nothing.

 

“You got to say things I’m too scared to say...”

 

“You really need to loosen up, senpai,” the shadow said-- with less of a flange to its voice, less of that inhuman garbled tone, and more of Kanji’s rough pitch.

 

It threw Yosuke off. He forgot the boy behind him had eyes in poisonous yellow. He was too busy just letting his legs spread a little, lessing himself rest under the heat, and lazying under the caress of those big hands.

 

“It’s just… not that easy, you know?” Yosuke balked.

 

“Well,” purred the shadow to his ear, “Mind if I help?”

 

Next thing he knew, he was moaning again. The water was splashing, and his feet were kicking out of it. Dreams were like that. One second you were in a gay hot tub with a big gay psychological abomination of magic-most-mysterious, and the next you were sitting across their lap, moaning onto their shoulder while they touched your dick.

 

At least that was Yosuke’s case.

 

“S--sheesh! Wait, wait, that’s--”

 

Yosuke didn’t finish, he was biting softly on the shoulder.

 

No punch, no promise of ‘you’re goin’ to pay for THAT, damn it!’ None of those things. Only a squeeze from the arm that supported him, and the feeling of fingers stroking his shaft from the balls up. Yosuke tried closing his eyes for a moment, but that only made the feeling worse, it only made him breath hotter, and curl his toes and feel like something in his gut was boiling _hotter_ than the water around them.

 

Stroke, touch, and a soft pinch at the tip. Yosuke squealed at that one, and found himself lightly pounding on the shadows’ chest with one rolled-up fist. “H, hey, _hey, hey-hey-hey! T-too much, too much right there I--_ ”

 

And the shadow _stopped_.

 

“Too much?”

 

_That_ he hadn’t expected. Yosuke was frozen on the spot, most of his lucidity now passing onto his dream self-- and with his mouth pressed against the shadow’s otherwise unharmed skin, where he had been nipping moments before, he confronted the idea… all while keeping his legs tightly shut at the thighs.

 

“It… it shouldn’t feel good.”

 

“Huh, why not, senpai?”

 

“It _shouldn’t_ feel good,” Yosuke repeated, quieter.

 

“So, uhh… it did?” the shadow said, perfectly matching Kanji’s drawl.

 

Yosuke swallowed hard, and gave a tiny nod.

 

He closed his eyes. He tried to think, to tell himself, this… couldn’t be happening. If it did, it wouldn’t _feel_ good, right? So, ahh, so it made sense: it was just a dream, _right?_

 

Right?

 

_And if it’s just a dream…_ then, it doesn’t _count_ , it doesn’t _matter._

 

He spread his legs slowly…

 

\---

 

The infectious chime of the Junes theme song, in its most jarring and abrasive form: the cellphone ringtone, woke him up. It was his phone alarm, telling him it was time to get out of bed.

 

Except Yosuke couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He didn’t dare. When his eyes parted he felt as if he’d frozen on the spot under the tangle of sheets, and dared not take the first step to the waking world.

 

Not until he checked for sure, not until a painful uncertainty was clarified-- he shrunk, slightly, under the sheets, until his eyes alone were still peeking over them, cold terror in his gut and heat in his breath.

 

He checked, rubbing slightly between his legs.

 

Sticky.

 

A good dozen thoughts came crashing through his head, and yet with so many confusing feelings of anxiety, disgust, and (more troublingly) _disappointment_ at having woken up, Yosuke could only bark out. _“...goddamn it,”_ and, refusing to face the world, threw the bedsheet over his head to hide under the pillow until he’d come up with a very good reason as to why _that had felt so damn good_.

 


End file.
